


Sharp Words, Blunt Objects

by TashaKon (Queerasil)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dom John, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sexy Times, Sub Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 16:43:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2395496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerasil/pseuds/TashaKon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock's first time is a beautiful, amazing, epically wonderful disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 'Cause why not?
> 
> This is beautiful.
> 
> Extremely consensual.
> 
> Very loving.
> 
> Very sexy.
> 
> Very explicit.
> 
> Please enjoy!

...

 

The first kiss is just that: a kiss. There’s nothing electric about it; no buzz of electricity that shoots up their bodies like lightening; no sudden sensation of perfection or nirvana   
that settles over them; no earth-shattering, universe-breaking quake that shakes them to their very souls. It’s just a kiss.

Sherlock is understandably very confused. “Why aren’t you gasping?” he asks, and John laughs.

“Sherlock, you’ve been reading way too much porn. That’s not how it works.” John can’t help thinking how adorably confused the brilliant man is. 

Sherlock’s read every single fan fiction everyone has ever written about him, and he has to disagree. “That’s how it works online?”

“Online is not real life,” John points out, and Sherlock nods.

“Well, how does it work then?” 

John smiles.

 

... 

 

They end up in John’s bedroom, of all places; John figures the farther away from Mrs. Hudson they are, the better. They stumble backwards onto the bed, John on top of a slightly-giddy Sherlock. Button by button, John takes Sherlock’s shirt apart until it’s nothing more than scraps of fabric on the floor. Sherlock pulls John’s jumper of his head, throwing it haphazardly against the wall. Greedy hands rip clothing off until there remnants of their wardrobes are lost, scattered carelessly around the floor. 

“Everything okay?” John asks, just to make sure. He imagines the experience might be a little overwhelming for Sherlock, and he wouldn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.  
Sherlock nods, smiling. His eyes lock onto John’s; his pupils blown wide and dilated so they eclipse his grey eyes. “Wonderful,” he pants. 

John runs his hand down Sherlock’s back, savoring as the detective’s muscles tense under him. All Sherlock’s control, all his superiority and supremacy, and there he is: a slave to his desires, just like everyone else. John finds it sexy and incredibly human. 

Sherlock’s skin prickles as John kisses a line down his chest. The sensation is strong, sharp, almost like a slap. Sherlock loves it. He loves John’s command, his power, his authority – all of it. He loves everything that makes Captain John Watson Captain John Watson. Sherlock wants John, wants him so bad he nearly howls and begs like a primal dog. 

John kisses just the right spot on Sherlock’s clavicle, and Sherlock nearly melts. He bites his lip to stifle it, and reaches his hand up to trail his fingers down the doctor’s soft neck.  
The sensation of Sherlock’s softly calloused fingers against his warm skin leaves John wanting more. He imagines Sherlock’s quick fingers dancing along the taut strings of a violin, and decides he wants to be played as well. If Sherlock Holmes is a musician, then John Watson wants to be his greatest creation, his masterpiece, his magnum opus.

Sherlock groans as John flips him onto his stomach. Sherlock’s decision to bottom is more of a practical decision than a preference. He’s never had sex before, and he doesn’t even know where anything is. Good thing John is an excellent teacher.

John leans down and whispers in a sultry voice into Sherlock’s ear, “Good?”

“So good,” Sherlock purrs, and his mind races with sensations: John’s wet lips kissing a perfect line across his shoulders, John’s hand on the base of his neck, John’s other hand cupping his cheek, John’s knee between his thigh, and John’s other knee holding him in place. The whole set-up is perfect -- genius, even. Sherlock has never felt more vulnerable his life and it makes him feel alive and powerful and special all at the same time. Every touch, every sound races through his mind before he can process it. The feelings are there, but not the observations. It’s like the floodgates have been opened, and all the information is just flowing freely in; he feels it all, but he observes none of it. It’s like he’s being administered a pure, concentrated dose of John into his bloodstream. (He just hopes he doesn’t overdose.)


	2. Chapter 2

...

John wraps his fingers around the soft curls of Sherlock’s hair, pulling tightly until the other man cries out in pleasure. I’ve discovered a new kink, realizes John, and he grins, pulling again and eliciting another moan. 

“Oh, god,” Sherlock rasps. Sherlock’s head swims with emotions. He desires – wants – no, needs John inside him. He needs to be filled, as if having John inside him will complete him and fill that empty space he’s felt for so many years. He needs to satisfy that tingle of lust and desire he feels every time John looks at him, or licks his lips, or touches him, or tells him how amazing he is. He wants to be praised and scolded at the same time; to feel a mixture of right and wrong that he previously thought to be unattainable, but now realizes could be; if only John helps him. “Please, John. I need you…” 

Teasing, John whispers, “What, Sherlock? Tell me what you want to do?” It isn’t a suggestion; it is a command.

“I want you to…” Sherlock shivers as John nips at his earlobe. “I want you deep inside me now…” John pulls his hair again, and he gasps, “Oh, John!”

John bites back a moan as he moves forward. Slowly, he slides a finger inside Sherlock. 

Sherlock shudders at the sudden sensation. It feels wonderful, strange but wonderful, and Sherlock scolds himself for not doing this earlier. Sherlock begs for more, and John obliges, sliding a second finger in. He rubs them around in little circles until Sherlock is crying out, begging for more. John ups the ante to three fingers, and then four, and then five, and then his entire fist. Sherlock loves every second of it. He loves the contact, and the foreign sensations, and the pleasure and pain layered over each other until they combine. He wants more. No. He needs more. 

John is more than happy to oblige. “Ready?”

“Yes. God, yes.” Sherlock has been ready for this since they day they met. 

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: In lieu of the fact I have no idea how to write actual sex, this will be the end of the fic. I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> "Is this as sexy as it gets?" you ask, sounding disappointed.  
> "No." I answer with a pompous grin. "There are more chapters coming soon! In fact, the next chapter is going to be the really dirty one. Until then, support my extreme insecurities by giving kudos, subscribing, bookmarking, or commenting. Thanks!" I wave you goodbye as you click 'kudos'...


End file.
